


light and warmth

by privateerwrites



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/pseuds/privateerwrites
Summary: Athos gets drunk and Porthos helps him home.
Relationships: Athos | Comte de la Fère/Porthos du Vallon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	light and warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This was from a prompt fill on tumblr for "I'll walk you home" !

Athos is tired. Athos is drunk. Athos needs sleep. Athos knows all these things. Athos also cannot convince himself to leave the table at which he is sitting with his wine. 

He hears heavy footsteps pass by his table. Pause. Track backwards. _Porthos, then_ , he thinks, and the pain in his chest eases a little as the shame increases. 

"Athos," comes a deep, gentle voice from above him. "C'mon, love." Athos groans. Porthos' hand lands on his shoulder, gentle and careful and solid and warm. Athos lifts his head and looks up into Porthos' eyes. There's something there that he can't quite pin down, though it may just be that he is too drunk to read it. 

Porthos shakes his shoulder, and Athos realizes that he's half asleep in his wine glass, his fingers already loosening themselves, the glass rolling at a dangerous angle between his fingers. 

_Fuck._

He shouldn't be this drunk. 

Porthos is saying something now, and Athos is saying something back, and he knows he won't remember this conversation in the morning. 

"-thos? Athos?" There are fingers snapping in front of his face now, beautiful strong fingers for tearing people apart and gently helping them back together and showing them their worth and- 

"I'll walk you home." 

"I'm fine." 

"No, you're not."

Porthos loops his arm around Athos' upper ribs, under his arms, and lifts up. Athos moves with it, sagging into his warmth and safety, his brain, even drunk, telling him that Porthos is someone who will care for him, someone he could love- can love. 

Slowly, they stumble out of the bar, Athos leaning heavily on Porthos and Porthos taking his weight with grace. 

It's late when they get to Athos' apartment, and wile Athos is not a clingy drunk, he is a tired drunk. Porthos leads him in, and he takes Porthos by the collar and attempts to drag him into his bedroom. 

"Love," Porthos starts, his voice careful, as if he thinks that he may break Athos if he speaks too harshly. 

"Stay," Athos asks, and he knows he sounds pitiful, but right now, he doesn't care. 

"Alright," Porthos says. "Alright." 

He peels Athos out of his shirt and pants gently. He gently sets Athos down on the bed, and Athos watches him tiredly as Porthos strips with impressive speed. Athos makes a needy noise somewhere in the back of his throat and something inside him is yelling about impropriety and being a fuck-up. Porthos slides under the covers next to him, letting Athos settle his head and upper body on Porthos' chest. 

"Hey, hey, 's alright love," Porthos says, stroking Athos' hair, and Athos realizes with a start that he's crying. 

"Sorry," he says, his voice cracking. 

"Athos you- you're fine, alright?" Athos nods, not trusting his voice anymore. His head is light and fuzzy, and laying on Porthos makes him feel even lighter, and he drifts off to sleep like that, surrounded by light and love and kindness.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> If tumblr is more your thing, I'm also over there at privateerstudies!


End file.
